Shadows Of the Night
by disgruntledpickle
Summary: What happened on Dean's first solo hunt in New Orleans? What if it was more complicated than just "some voo-doo thing"? Enter Jackie Kane, born and bred by her father to be an unstoppable hunter, yet she has no knowledge of the dangerous things lurking in the dark. Dean Winchester changes everything. Can she rise to the challenge when he brings it all to light?
1. Prologue

**Shadows of the Night**

 _You said, oh girl, it's a cold world  
when you keep it all to yourself.  
I said, you can't hide on the inside,  
all the pain you've ever felt.  
Ransom my heart, but baby don't look back  
'Cause we got nobody else._

 _We're running with the shadows of the night,  
so baby take my hand, it'll be all right.  
Surrender all your dreams to me tonight,  
they'll come true in the end_ _._

" _Shadows of the Night" by Pat Benatar_

 ***Disclaimer: I own absolutely nothing from this show. All I got to my name is my OC so please don't sue, I'm broke.***

 **Prologue**

 _Present Day_

-Nebraska-

Dean pulled the minivan into the gravel parking lot, brakes protesting, and eyed the dusty looking dive bar distrustfully. Sighing painfully, he put the piece of shit in park, "Man, this is humiliating," he complained, mostly to himself.

Sam just shook his head at his brother as he climbed out of the van, irritated at Dean for slamming his door. Wheels were wheels to him. His brother did not share the same sentiment.

"I feel like a freaking soccer mom!" Dean half shouted while glancing around to check the place out. There was nothing to see other than the sign above the door that read, "Harvelle Roadhouse", as far as he could tell.

"It's the only car Bobby had running," Sam explained for what felt like the millionth time since Bobby handed him the keys.

He was ignored while Dean continued checking the place out, searching for signs of life while eyeing the possible entrances that they could use.

"Hello! Anybody here?" Sam called while casually walking around the corner of the building.

Dean had settled on just going through the front door, "Hey. You bring the uh," He trailed off as Sam came back around, deciding he felt nobody was home.

"Of course," he tossed Dean the pick set.

He caught it and bent down to the lock, swiftly unlocking the door which creaked in protest as he pushed it open. They walked in to an open room with a bar and a few booths and chairs that looked to be well kept except for the broken light that buzzed and caught their attention for a split second. Almost immediately, their attention was brought back to a man passed out on a pool table in a separate area towards the back.

"Hey, buddy?" Sam tried to talk to the guy as Dean walked closer to inspect, "I'm guessing that isn't Ellen," he said, looking down at the man with vague interest.

"Yeah," Dean added nonchalantly as they started to pan out and look through the bar. Dean glanced Sam's way as his brother walked through a swinging door that led into a back room. He started walking around deciding what to do next when he heard a slight noise. He didn't have time to react as he felt the oh-too-familiar barrel of a gun pressed against his back. "Oh, god. Please let that be a rifle," he said sarcastically as he put his hands up in a display of peace.

The gun cocked. "No, I'm just real happy to see you," a feminine voice retorted.

Suddenly, all of his focus was on the body behind him. He didn't notice another person slip out from the same room, slowly and silently making their way up to the two, gun ready to be drawn.

"Don't move," the voice said again, this time much harsher as she nudged him with the gun, keeping his attention even further away from the figure that was almost to her side now.

"Not moving, copy that," he almost laughed. The person was at the girl's side now, making eye contact with her to display her intentions before reaching to take the gun and control of the situation. He continued before the figure could grab it, "You know, you should know something, miss. When you put a rifle on someone, you don't want to put it right against their back. Because it makes it real easy to do..."

He turned and swiftly had the rifle out of the girl's hand and released the bullets.

"That," he mumbled confusedly as it had just registered that there was another girl standing there too. He didn't even have time to get a good look at the new aggressor because of the fist flying fearsomely fast at him. She had punched him, hard, right between the eyes. The first girl caught the rifle as he dropped while doubling over and clutching his face, blood falling into his hands. Vaguely, he registered the sound of a new gun being cocked, and most likely pointed at him, too.

"Sam! Need some help in here!" He called to his brother as the pain finally hit him. "I can't see, I can't even see," he mumbled as he attempted to assess the damage and try to glance at the new person that hit him, but his hand covered his face and his vision was blurry.

"Sorry, Dean, I can't right now. I'm a... little tied up," Sam gestured with a nod of his head to the woman leading him out of the room with a gun, noticing the two women that had guns pointed at him.

"Dean?" The second girl spoke as she was finally able to get a good look at him. She sounded confused and relieved, maybe more than she should have been.

He looked back at the sound of the familiar voice and saw a face he thought he'd never see again. It barely even registered when the woman who had Sam spoke up and asked them if they were Winchesters. He gave a short, "Yeah," but his attention was completely on the woman standing in a protective position in front of the shorter girl. He had gotten lost in her as their eyes met, if only for a split second, as mixed emotions, mainly shock, flickered across his face. He regained himself just as quickly, but the wonder was still barely evident in his voice,

"Jackie?"

 _A/N:_

 _Hey lovelies! Apologies for such a short prologue but I wanted to go ahead and get this little bit out there so I could get some feedback, maybe, possibly… fingers crossed._

 _This whole idea basically just popped into my head one day. I was re-watching Supernatural and I noticed that we never heard anything other than that one line in the first episode about Dean's first solo hunt, and boom! A character was born (well not that easily but you get the idea). So this is me building on that idea I had._

 _I already have a nice portion of the beginning of this story written, so the first chapter should be posted within the next two days. It will most likely be the entirety of Dean's time in New Orleans, and Jackie's origin story, although, I haven't exactly decided if I want to merge it with the "Everybody Loves a Clown" episode and do a flashback type deal, but you'll know when I post it, obviously._

 _This story is going to follow the series for the most part, with a few detail changes along the way. I'm going to try to leave everything the way it is, but I will need to mix some stuff around to fit my OC in as smoothly as possible._

 _Anyways, this is my first attempted story (in the history of forever) so, I'm just testing the waters. Any feedback is welcome, and I desperately want criticism just don't be stupidly mean with it because I'll ignore you. I'm not going to be one of those authors that won't post if I don't have reviews (no offense to the authors that do, I get it) because this is really just something for myself. I was gonna go crazy if I didn't get this out onto paper._

 _Hope you enjoy!_

 _-C_


	2. Ch 1: Breezy Beginnings

**Chapter One- Breezy Beginnings**

… _October 2005 …_

-New Orleans, Louisiana-

Jackie Kane winced as her left foot hit the puddle, conveniently located by the driver side door of her 1998 Ford Ranger. The warm water sloshed over her boot and soaked into her socks right before she could lunge into the truck.

"Damn it!" she muttered loudly as she slammed the door, hard, and began to unlace her dirty boots and take off the now soiled socks. She glanced up through her windshield at the grey clouds accusingly while she turned the ignition. It revved to life, surprisingly, she thought, with the luck she had today.

It wasn't that she didn't like the rain, she loved it, actually. It was just that with the on and off weather they had been having this week, nobody was welcoming the extra humidity. And she certainly wasn't welcoming any extra negativity today.

Jackie could be considered an average person just making her way through life if it wasn't for her job. She was a paramedic at the Tulane Medical Center, and an adrenaline junkie through and through. She loved the rush and excitement she felt whenever she went on a call, and most days it was just that- exciting. Except for days like today when it was just depressing. When there was nothing you could do to save the person. When you were called to a scene and had to pronounce someone DOA. When you were called to a scene and there was someone you knew. She thought about how much the day put on her shoulders as she turned onto the main road and headed back to the house.

That someone in question was Ms. Martha Kenner, and she was a family friend. Jackie's grandmother and Ms. Martha had been extremely close back in the glory days. She remembered her being at her grandmothers a few times when they would visit, back when her dad was still alive, but she hadn't seen her around since she moved back to NOLA to take care of her grandma. And what was really stressing Jackie out was how she didn't know how to break the news to her.

It started out as a typical call for the backwoods bayou; someone, somewhere, got hurt doing something they knew they shouldn't be doing. In this case, a couple of kids were messing around Martha's property late at night and shooting bottle rockets onto her roof. One of the kids got bit by a dog she had chained up out back, and soon enough the police and paramedics arrived on scene. She shouldn't have been on the call because her shift was almost over and the other medics were already there for their shift, but stupidly her and her partner figured it wouldn't take long. It shouldn't have, the kid was fine, the dog barely nicked him, and the parents had already taken the kid for his shots; but she was still there when the police knocked on Ms. Kenner's door. That was when shit went south. Fast. The dog went crazy and she had turned to look on her way back to the ambulance to see what was going on when the smell hit her. An unmistakable and unforgettable smell that could only be described as death itself. Her instincts had told her to keep walking but her ultimate need to help overwhelmed her. She walked through that front door and into the most disturbing sight she had ever seen. It was like she had blinders on, she didn't even notice how wrecked the house was because directly in her line of sight was Ms. Kenner, cold and eerily still, laying not two feet from the wall phone, one hand stretched towards the phone, the other clutching her heart. After she quickly steeled herself and checked her vitals, she pronounced the woman DOA. Her best guess was that it was the result of a heart attack. The cops made her and her partner hang around to give some medical opinions for the report, while another ambulance took the body to the morgue to confirm the cause of death. They also had to ask Jackie a few questions, seeing as she knew the victim, which made the whole process continue on till daybreak. She was tired, to say the least. What haunted her though, was that god awful smell she just couldn't shake out of her nose.

The gravel sloshed as she turned into the driveway of her grandmother's small two story plantation-style home. New Orleans was an old city and in their tight neighborhood all the houses basically looked the same, so what made this house distinguishable was not the wrap-around porch, or the faded blue shutters. No, it was the glaringly bright red door that invited guests up the steps. It always made Jackie smile thinking about how passive aggressive one neighbor got once good ole Lucille Roy demanded she have that damn door. Nobody ever did figure out who sent the letters stating the red paint was "an abhorrent abomination to the visual setting of the street" and whenever Jackie asked her Mams, as she called her, how she felt about the letter, she would just shrug and say "I like the color red". Jackie always had her suspicions about Miss Bellefonte across the road, and they seemed to be confirmed as she was now looking at the glare the old hag was sending her from her front porch. It probably had something to do with the Pat Benatar song she was playing just a little too loud as she pulled in, Jackie thought as she shut the door to her truck with her bare foot; boots and socks in one hand, mail in the other. Whatever, she had it turned up so she didn't have to think. She sent the woman the biggest smile she could muster, and a sarcastic half salute, too, as she ascended the front porch steps and fished out her keys from her pocket. All she got back was a small grimace and grunt as the woman turned back to her rocking chair and morning paper.

"Cold bitch," Jackie whispered to herself as she unlocked the door. She chuckled to herself just thinking about how much worse her grandmother's retort would have been.

Of course, that would've been before the Alzheimer's took a turn for the worst.

"Mams! I'm off work, you up?" She shouted facing the living room as she closed the front door behind her, shrugging out of her rain jacket and placing it on the coat rack in the entryway. She let the boots and socks fall to the floor.

"Hey Jacks, she's still asleep."

Jackie turned, startled, at the sound of the young woman's voice to see a petite red head wearing scrubs sitting at her kitchen table. The girl was a striking contrast to Jackie, whereas she was short and curvy, with close cropped bright hair, Jackie was tall and athletically slender, with dark chocolate hair that fell to the end of her shoulder blades. "Hey Rach. Thought you'd be home by now, your shift ended an hour ago," she said confusedly.

Rachel shrugged, "Frank texted to let me know he'd be home late, something about y'all getting a call not five minutes before clock-out," she said mid yawn. "And you know there's really nothing to do when he's not there so I decided I'd stay and watch Lucy till you got back."

"That's really awesome of you. You didn't have to do that," Jackie said genuinely as she made her way to the kitchen and set the mail on the counter, then heading to the fridge and grabbing a beer before slumping into the chair across from who she considered to be her friend. Really her closest friend if she was being honest. Her only friend if you got down to it. Jackie didn't go out much because her grandmother required constant care so she met Rachel through the assisted living program they used for when she was at work. It was one crazy coincidence when she found out she worked with her fiancé, Frank, who eventually became her partner in the ambulance whenever they got a call. Their schedules called for maximum interaction so the three of them grew close.

Rachel shrugged again as Jackie popped the top on her bottle, "There was nothing to do at home anyways," she said as she stared at Jackie taking a long swig from the cold bottle, "Little early for that, don't ya think?" she eyed the bottle meaningfully, "Hard shift?"

Jackie snorted, "Its 5'oclock somewhere. Grab yourself one if you like." She carefully hid the hitch that threatened to make itself known in her voice.

Rachel leaned back in her chair reaching for the fridge. She was never one to turn down free alcohol. There was a long pause as she struggled to get the bottle without having to leave her chair. When she righted herself, beer in hand, she brought up the subject Jackie was trying to avoid. Hell, someone had to get that poor girl to talk about anything that was bothering her, at least once, she thought. "Frank told me about the call you just had. Crazy how y'all found her. That's a real shame that her family wasn't around to find her," she said regretfully, while shaking her fiery head.

"The biggest part was the state of the house, you should've seen what the place looked like. It was like a bomb went off in there, place was trashed. I mean it's not like you can wreck an entire house mid heart attack, and the cops said everything was locked so nobody could've broke in," Jackie elaborated while nursing her beer, "I don't know, it was just so odd, and that's not even the strange part" she continued on, practically done with the drink.

Rachel was surprised she was getting this much out of her friend. "What's the strange part?" she asked, nudging her on.

"It's weird," Jackie continued skeptically, "but the way we found her. It must've been some heart attack. Her chest area was bruised and severely inflamed, almost like her heart was literally trying to jump out of her skin. And her face," she crinkled her nose, "it was- it had the purest expression of terror I've ever seen! I don't know Rach, out of all the heart attack vics I've seen, and I've seen a lot," she chuckled morbidly at that, earning a concerned frown from Rachel, and a derailed train of thought, "I don't know, man, the point is I couldn't help feeling like I missed something," she shrugged, downing the rest of her beer.

Rachel watched like a concerned parent as Jackie got up to rinse her bottle out before tossing it in the too full trash. "I think you just had a really long shift. Things have been pretty hectic around here lately," she quickly chugged the rest of hers and handed the bottle to Jackie who was leaning against the counter, hand waiting.

Jackie contemplated what Rach had said while she rinsed out her friends bottle and put it in the trash. Hell, maybe she _was_ just tired and seeing things for all she knew. Or maybe it was the stress of having to tell her Mams that her friend was dead. That was the problem with the disease, you just never knew how the person was going to act. She paused mid tying the trash bag, "I knew her Rachel, not too well but she was one of Mams' good friends. How am I supposed to tell her? I just never know what the Alzheimer's is gonna make her do." She fought the tear that was threatening to fall and finished tying the bag. "What am I supposed to do Rach?" she said turning around to face her.

"Now you just listen hear a minute. I know how you think Jacquelyn Kane, and this sure as hell ain't in anyway your fault. I know you sit there and blame yourself for not noticing this disease sooner but let me tell you something," Rachel fumed as she stared her in the eye, "There was no way to know. You couldn't have been able to tell. So quit turning everything into guilt about your grandmother." She calmed down once she thought Jackie was hearing her.

She wasn't, she was just done being scolded. She held her chin up and put on a sincere smile anyway. "You really are a wise ole bitch Rach," she said jokingly. Rachel let out a small giggle and all the worry left her face. "You're right, though, I think I am just stressed."

"Jackie, you need some rest," Rachel scolded while standing and grabbing her purse from the table. "I'm gonna head on now, the bus is about to run and Frank is probably getting all worked up about me not being at the house, but you call if you need anything, ya hear?" She had reached the door and her umbrella, and Jackie opened the both of them for her.

"I hear ya," she said as Rachel descended the porch. "Y'all do the same."

"You know I can't go a day without hearing that charming voice of yours," Rachel called, smiling, from the sidewalk, "and I'm serious Jackie, go to sleep."

"Yes ma'am," she said, mostly to herself from the porch as Rachel was rounding the corner headed for the bus stop. She sent one last half-assed smile and pathetic wave her way before heading back in for the trash.

She didn't know why it always came back to this. She knew she always did every damn thing she could for Mams, but it still never felt like it was enough. That woman made sure she wanted for nothing growing up, she could come to the woman with anything, she was her person, and Jackie wanted to repay the favor. She loved that woman with everything she had. Between her parents' deaths, the resentment she always faced with her father, and her siblings abandoning her in search of better lives for themselves, that woman wasall she had.

Shrugging her raincoat back on and pulling her sockless feet into her boots, she made her way to the garbage can at the end of the driveway and lit up a cigarette, something she didn't do often but found herself smoking one whenever she was in deep thought. Right now she was contemplating how to stall telling her grandmother about Martha, or rather how exactly to break the news of a friend's death to someone who more often than not forgot how to use a microwave. Let alone her own granddaughter. She had already forgotten her other grandchildren and their parents, but Jackie thought that was a blessing somedays. Better that than the nights she used to sob uncontrollably because she had to relive her child's death again. Those were the nights that tore Jackie apart on the inside.

She also couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to what happened to Ms. Kenner than anyone was seeing. It was like there was this voice inside her telling her to dig deeper, something instinctual that she couldn't explain. She knew this was going to bother her to no end, and there was no way she was going to be sleeping well until she put these nagging thoughts to rest. She had always been way too curious for her own good. So, she resolved to herself to stop by and check in with autopsy at the hospital before her next shift started. They would confirm the heart attack and her mind would be put at rest.

The sky chose then to rumble and rain even harder, almost as if it was telling her to march inside and get everything over with. Grey eyes met challengingly to the clouds, and lost. She knocked the ember of her American Spirit off on the bottom of her boot and threw the butt in the trash. She marched up the steps as the clouds demanded, intent on taking off her uniform and getting a shower, then telling her grandmother the bad news of the day after she got her up and moving. Sleep was most likely not happening today. All she needed really was a good cry, and that could wait till the shower.

She made eye contact with Miss Bellefonte as she was shutting the door. The old woman was glaring.

"Cold bitch," she mumbled grumpily, and slammed the door.

….….

 _... two days later…_

Dean was already hating the rain in New Orleans as he ran back out to the impala that was parked in one of the many parking spaces at the seedy looking hotel. He hadn't even been in the town five minutes and he had already figured out that New Orleans wasn't going to be the dream he thought it would be. The weather was awful, and the one motel that was available looked like a leper wouldn't even touch it. Regardless, he needed to get settled in and get on to the hospital to see the body in order to start his investigation. He was already running behind, and there was no way he was going to let anything screw up the first hunt his father was letting him go solo on.

Grabbing his bags and gently shutting the trunk, he made his way up the sidewalk to his room at the end of the building. He opened the door and turned on the light, and shuddered. He was used to crappy motels, but this one took the cake. The first thing he noticed was the cobwebs in the corners of the room, but his attention was ultimately drawn to the large and suspiciously red stain close to the back wall, next to the bathroom. The room was small, containing only a single bed and nightstand, couch, mini fridge, and a disturbingly old TV he doubted even worked. This was definitely not worth what he paid, and he was in too sour of a mood to argue with the cheap bastard at the front desk that he doubted even cared.

He sighed and tossed his bags onto the bed, running his hand through his hair and groaning as they kicked up dust living in the mattress.

"This is just freakin' _awesome_ ," he grumbled out to himself sarcastically.

Ignoring everything else that seemed to be wrong with the room, he began to go through all the papers from the folder his dad gave him and pin them on the wall opposite the bed. His eyes methodically scanned over information that he already knew, but was rechecking to make sure this case ran as smooth as possible. He was _not_ going to disappoint his dad, especially not this case.

What made this case so special, aside from it being Dean's first time hunting solo, was the victim. Martha Kenner had been a sort of acquaintance to his father at some point, apparently offering advice to John relating to witchcraft and voodoo from time to time. Dean didn't know the details of the relationship other than what John determined was need-to-know for the case, but that didn't matter to him. His dad knew what he was doing, and that was good enough for Dean.

When his dad sent him to investigate, he didn't know what to make of all the information. The article he was currently looking at stated that Kenner's cause of death was a heart attack, but what had him concerned was the evidence that pointed to a robbery as well. The police stated that a break-in happened at some point after the victim had already passed, which medical records show occurred about thirty-six hours before the body was found. Kenner was in her late 60s, so a heart attack would not be unusual, and the robbery could just be a coincidence, but he knew better. His best guess was that someone was working some bad voodoo, which he was sure was a good guess considering the history between the victim and his father. He wouldn't know for sure until he visited the hospital and checked out the body. Even so, his dad sent him because John felt he owed something to the woman, the least he could do was send his son to look into things. And Dean respected that.

Running his hand over his face, Dean turned back to his bags. He was intent on getting a shower, then getting this investigation started. As he rummaged through to find what he was looking for, a sudden wave of determination washed over him. This was his case, he was completely in charge. And nobody was going to get in his way.

….…

Jackie skidded as she rounded the corner. She was running through the hospital corridors a lot faster than was probably necessary, but she couldn't help it. Her shift was about to start and she would get an earful from her bosses if she was late, so she only had about twenty minutes to get done what she needed to get done. She was never late, and she didn't want questions from anyone, especially her partner, considering that the favor she was about to cash in on was technically against hospital policy, and that was putting it mildly. But she severely needed to put her mind at rest- she hadn't been able to get much sleep because of it. Well that, and the fact that the bad news she had told her grandmother made it a very rough couple of days for the both of them.

Already in uniform, she snagged her pager from the front desk as she whirled by, grabbing it just in case, and left a very frazzled nurse in her wake. It didn't register that she bumped a man leaning on the counter.

"Sorry Natalie!" She called over her shoulder to the blonde nurse, barely noticing the tall man in uniform who looked a little irked at the commotion. Whatever, she thought to herself, she probably did the woman a favor by interrupting the conversation. She guessed he was flirting with the attractive nurse, given his overly casual stance against the counter. He wasn't so bad looking himself, but the thought was brief, and it passed as she came to a less-than-graceful stop at her destination.

Straightening herself to give the best impression of calmness and confidence she could, she opened the door to the morgue.

"Hey Johnson," she greeted with the most innocent smile she could muster to the scrawny man in a lab coat standing over an examination table.

"Jackie? You're not supposed to be in here! Seriously, how do you even keep getting in here?" He asked incredulously. Still, his eyes scanned over her, and she had to fight the urge to shudder in mild revulsion.

"You left the door unlocked, again," she replied sweetly. "Probably should start locking that," she said as sincere as was possible for her.

"Cut the crap, Kane. What do you want?" he questioned, sounded irritated and slightly suspicious. She was never this nice to anyone, especially him. Not since he tried that move at an office party a few weeks ago.

She sighed, almost childishly, and there was a visible relaxation to her posture. Her stance became more threatening when she answered. "Well, the thing is this- you still owe me that favor," she trailed off, looking at him pointedly.

"What ya need?" he asked, trying to appear unfazed as he returned his attention to his work, picking up the unattended scalpel. Hopefully giving off the impression that he wasn't afraid of her, which he, along with everyone else at Tulane, and probably New Orleans, most certainly was.

"I need to look at a body," she admitted. She held her steely gaze as he dropped his tool, and visibly paled. He met her gaze, slack-jawed as she continued, "And I need you to not be in here when I do."

He gulped, he actually _gulped_ as the severity of the situation hit him. He knew she was not going to relent, still he stupidly protested, "I don't see how one measly date to my cousin's wedding is the same as asking me to break hospital policy, and quite possibly the _law_."

But she held her stance, "Five minutes. All I'm asking for is five minutes. I swear I won't touch anything I just have to be sure of what I saw. It's keeping me up at night," she practically pleaded with him.

Mulling it over in his head, he breathed out. She stepped forward and put a hand on his shoulder and gave him the most helpless look he had ever seen, "Please, Perry," she begged. He had a feeling she was being genuine.

Finally, he relented, "Fine, but five minutes and five minutes only. And if anything is moved, I'm calling the front and blaming you. Now, who is so important that you need to see?"

Her face relaxed as she looked noticeably relieved. "Martha Kenner," she breathed out.

He didn't even have to glance at his paper to know which number he needed to pull, "Ah yeah, Kenner. That's a weird one," he commented as he walked over to the correct locker. "Hey, isn't that the scene you were called to?" he questioned as he pulled out the drawer to reveal a body covered in a white sheet.

She just ignored him as she waved him off. "Whatever," he commented to himself as he walked out of the door, leaving to go to his office on the other side of the hallway. "Five minutes, Kane," he called to her as he shut the door. This time, remembering to lock it.

She had looked up at the sound of his voice, not even hearing what he said, but was quickly drawn back to the body in front of her. Steeling herself, she pulled the white sheet down just enough to reveal the woman's face. Martha's face was much calmer than the last time she saw it, making her start to question herself and what she really saw that day.

Jackie was never one to second guess herself- her job didn't allow for that. You couldn't be that type of person and deal with the high paced action of being a first responder. You showed up, analyzed the situation in seconds, and began treatment. There wasn't room for that kind of thinking. Yet, here she was, needing a minute before she could bring herself to lower the sheet enough to see what she came here to see. She needed to know if the grotesque bruising and swelling around Martha's chest was real, or if Rachel was right and she was actually just tired and stressed from that shift and seeing things. She needed to know if she missed something. She needed to know if there was more.

However, just as she was lifting the sheet enough to relieve her anxiety, or increase it, the door opened, and in walked in the man from the front desk. She froze, and her heart stopped as she noticed the federal appearance and realized just how much shit she had gotten herself into.

…

Dean was still brooding, but holding the determination that had found him earlier, when he pulled up to the Tulane Medical Center. As he guided the Impala into the parking space, he turned down the Led Zeppelin song blasting through the radio that he had been humming to. After grabbing his fake badge out of the glove compartment, he got out of the car, and quickly glanced around. Being careful not to slam it, he shut the door and headed up the steps into the hospital, intent on finding the front desk so he could get to the morgue and examine the body.

Dean's mood had extremely improved when he got a good look at the nurse fixated on her computer at the front desk. Easily sliding on a boyish grin, he marched up to the desk and flashed his badge. Chicks always dig the badge. And, if he was being honest, he was excited to use the Aerosmith cover, it was one of his favorites.

"Detective Tyler, FBI, Miss, umm" he paused leaning in to her further to get a look at her nametag, "Carter." The blonde nurse blushed as she smiled up at him, clearly buying into his charm.

"Call me Natalie, what can I do ya for, Detective?" she asked, blatantly flirting with him. Oh yeah, this was going to be much more fun than he anticipated.

His grin got bigger as he leaned against the counter casually, "Well, I'm here for an investigation into a victim, transferred from the scene to your morgue here," he met her eyes as he continued, "it's very classified, do you think you could point me in the right direction?"

His confidence grew, if that was even possible, when she smiled brightly and sat up out of her chair leaning closer to him, too.

"Just right on down that hallway, sweetie. You'll take the second right, then your first left, and Dr. Johnson's office will be to your left, he'll help you from there," she explained sweetly as she pointed in the right direction.

He leaned a little closer, and just opened his mouth to con a number out of this meeting, when a blur of messy brown hair rushed by him, an arm grazing his elbow as it reached for something behind the counter where he was leaning. Her shoulder bumped into his side as she took back off again. He looked at the woman who was now a few feet past and showed no signs of stopping or acknowledging that she had hit him.

He stared after her, irritated, as she called back, "Sorry, Natalie!" and kept running.

Natalie was shaking her head at the woman as she gave her attention back to Dean, "What were you about to say?" she asked while batting her eyelashes at him.

Dean was still staring after the girl. "Hm? Oh, um, nothing," he replied, still in a bit of a daze as he turned back to the nurse. "Thanks Natalie, you have a good day," he gave her a half assed smile while pushing off of the counter and heading in the direction he needed to be.

Quickly shaking himself out of his reverie, he headed down the hallway, taking his time as he made his way to the morgue. As he walked, he gathered his focus back to the case, contemplating what he needed to be looking for on the body.

He reached the office of Dr. Johnson, after getting lost once or twice on his way, which he would never admit to. Knocking on the open door, he watched as the scrawny looking man jumped in his chair, and tore his attention from the clock on the wall to look at Dean.

"Dr. Johnson?" Dean questioned, and the man turned in his chair to completely face him.

"Yes. Can I help you?" the man confirmed, noncommittedly, while he shook himself out of thought.

Dean flashed his badge. "Detective Tyler, FBI, I'm looking into the investigation of Ms. Martha Kenner. Need to see the body," he gestured out of the door as he watched the man go pale.

Dr. Johnson stood and shook his hand, despite the obvious nervousness he was showing. "Um, this is actually a bad time. Besides I already gave the police my report," he said hastily.

Dean was just annoyed at the usual questioning, so he came off a little harsher than was probably intended. "New evidence has come up, so we need to double-check our findings. I won't take up too much of your time. It's necessary that I see the body today," he said threateningly. It seemed to work as the man sighed, and reached into his desk drawer for his keys.

"Alright, alright," he conceded, "Follow me." He got up to show Dean across the hall, scanning his key card on the door to the morgue.

"Thanks," Dean threw at him, sarcastically, right before the doctor opened the door for him.

Dean barreled in, only to stop in his tracks at the sight of the brunette from earlier, freezing with her hands on a white sheet that was covering who could only assume to be the victim he was looking for. He eyed her, then the body, and her again. She looked freaked, and rightly so considering she had no idea he was not a _real_ federal agent.

"Who the hell are you?" he demanded, confused as hell as to why she was in here, and at the same time finally understanding why the doctor had seemed so skittish before.

She met his gaze defiantly though, and straightened her back as she tried to be respectful and confident, well, as confident as someone who just got caught with their hand in the cookie jar could be.

"Jackie Kane," she replied, going for the honest answer and hoping it did her some good, "I'm a paramedic here, and I was just re-checking something for a report before my shift started." Okay, so the report part was a lie but she was praying for good luck, while simultaneously trying not to freak out.

The name caught his attention. "The same paramedic that was on scene when the body was found, and knew Kenner?" he was going through the news article in his mind, the media had been thorough in their story, which Dean was thankful for. He was also thankful that he could use this situation to his advantage, because he was planning on talking to this woman anyway, and since he had caught her doing something he was sure she wasn't supposed to do, she would likely be more open to answering him.

"Yes sir," she stated, still standing in that defensive stance, looking unsure of what to do.

He turned back to the doctor who was still standing sheepishly behind him, looking like he was going to wet himself. Dean couldn't help the small smirk that escaped at the sight. "Dr. Johnson, if you'll give us a minute," he directed at the man while nodding towards the door.

"Uh, sure," he managed to choke out before high-tailing it out of the door.

Dean turned back to Jackie, who was looking between him and the door, contemplating whether or not she could reach it before he could grab her. He made his way over to her, and stood on the other side of the body while he flashed his badge again, "Detective Tyler, FBI."

"Any relation to a Steven?" she joked halfheartedly, still eyeing that door.

He let out a small chuckle at that, and suddenly her attention was completely on him again. He was surprised at the intensity her grey eyes held, it was unnerving, and he shook his head to regain his composure. He needed complete focus to get everything he could out of the situation. "Listen, I just need you to answer a few questions, and give your opinion on the body, then you can be on your merry way," he explained.

She looked at him skeptically before nodding her agreement.

"Alright, let's get a look at that body first," he said, turning both of their attention to what lay in front of them as he pulled the sheet down, not realizing how much the girl in front of him had tried to prepare for that moment.

Jackie's eyes were transfixed on the chest while Dean began to look over every inch of the body. She desperately tried to hide the fear that was threatening to overcome her while she whispered to herself, "It's just the way I found it."

"What was that?" Dean questioned as he looked to Jackie's face, noting the emotions that flittered across her face, disappearing into a cold mask as she began to examine the bruised area around where the victim's heart was located.

She spoke up, explaining herself, "The bruising here," she indicated to the area, "was just like that when I first saw the body, although there was major swelling in the same area that isn't here anymore. The facial expression is different, but…" she trailed off.

"Anything you can add will help me in the investigation," he supplied, trying to be sincere, hoping she would continue. He was never good with other people, they always seemed to dislike him.

She ran a hand through her hair, looking away as she went on, "When I saw her the first time, her face was contorted into this expression of what I could only describe at the time as pure terror, enough to shake me a little," she met his eyes again as she continued on honestly, "it never usually gets to me, but something about this case has me disturbed. That's why I was in here in the first place- I needed answers." She was holding his gaze defiantly, as if to protest the unsettlement she was currently feeling. "And I thought that seeing the body again would help, but now I just feel even more confused to have everything confirmed. It makes me feel crazy, I just don't know," she added, feeling the weight that this whole thing was putting on her shoulders.

"You're not crazy," he supplied, looking her straight in the eye, and she looked relieved to have someone confirm it. He genuinely felt for her which is definitely not what he expected coming into this case. Sometimes, he felt sorry for the people who ran across the supernatural and never knew, sometimes he envied them. But this girl, he didn't know what to do with her because she wasn't reacting the way normal people would: she wasn't writing it off, she was trying to figure it out. Most people shied away from the unexplainable, here she was accepting it _as_ unexplainable, and running with it. He could respect that, so he immediately knew he was going to have to treat this case differently. Once he knew more about what he was dealing with, he was going to have to enlist her help.

"How did you know Kenner?" he asked, this time not speaking to her as Detective Tyler, but as Dean Winchester.

She shrugged as she broke their connection, looking down at the woman in question. "I didn't know her well, just enough to recognize the face. But my grandmother did, they were very close back in the day, I remember seeing her over a few times when I would visit. You always expect to recognize a face in my line of work, but I never expected the day to come and it be associated with something so gruesome," she trailed off, looking sadly at the face she was referring to.

Dean could relate to that sentiment, although it was much more likely doing what he and his dad did. He guessed that seeing what she did all the time, eventually you just became de-synthetized to it. It was a hard-hitting slap from reality when you recognized someone. Staring at her somber face and analyzing her, he realized it would take her awhile to get over this, no matter how little she knew the woman.

"Anyways," she said, looking back up at him and bringing both their minds back to the task at hand, "the swelling- that was definitely there. And personally," she continued, "I've never seen a heart attack vic with that much swelling, it looked like somebody filled her with air, like her heart literally exploded. But," she gestured to a stack of papers, "Johnson's report confirms a heart-attack. Professionally, I think he's lazy and I don't believe him," she sent him a teasing smile that infected him, causing him to grin as well.

"Well if that's your _professional_ opinion, I guess I'll just have to bring him in here and have him open her back up," he said jokingly, although he was serious. She smiled despite the morbidity of the statement, and he once again found himself smiling at her, too. He decided that he liked her smile, it made her seem more relaxed an open, took some years off of her young face. He knew they had shared a moment, and despite the circumstances of the situation, he thought that maybe he had made a friend, however rough the foundation was built on.

Jackie opened her mouth to say something, when an obnoxiously loud buzzing at her waist cut her off. She glanced down at what he guessed was a pager, and her whole demeanor changed when she read what was on the screen. Suddenly, the cold was back on her face, although her eyes stayed warm while she looked back up at him. "Shift just started and I have a call," she said hastily, and he could see the excitement burning behind her eyes despite the serious professionalism of her face. "Here," she started, grabbing a piece of blank paper and a pen from the table next to the door, and scribbled something down. "This is my number, shoot me a text or call after you get that body reopened," she continued, thrusting the paper into his hand.

"Will do," he called, looking down at it. He glanced up as she started to run out of the door. "Oh, and Jackie?" he started as she paused in the doorframe, looking at him impatiently, "It was good to meet you."

Her face softened as she called back, "You too, _Aerosmith_." She smiled as she ran out of the door.

Dean couldn't help the juvenile grin that took over his face as her words sunk in.

…

 _A/N:_

 _Hello again, lovelies!_

 _I sincerely hope that you've enjoyed this chapter, I really enjoyed writing this one! It was a little hard writing the interaction between Jackie and Dean, but all in all I think it came together smoothly. I'm putting a lot of effort into writing them separately, mainly because I want you to get to know Jackie before major changes come her way (No spoilers, LOL), and I want to get a feel for writing Dean before we get into canon territory. Your thoughts/ suggestions for improvements?_

 _Now, I pretty much know where I want this story to go, and I think each season will have its own book. Which means that I have this book planned out, and the next one, for the most part._

 _That being said, I also have the entirety of the case in New Orleans written, but everything after that needs major work, along with some of the New Orleans case needing a little bit more attention. So, the next chapter should be out within the next week, if not earlier. As of right now, NO is split into three chapters, but I may change it up a bit as I'm editing. Sorry if any updates will take longer than the others, I'm being very picky since this is my first work- I want it to be perfect._

 _If anyone has any comments/concerns/suggestions, please let me know!_

 _Well, before I close off and attempt to get some sleep, a major thanks to everyone that has followed/favorited this early on: y'all rock! And a major round of applause to dreamingnotsleeping and for being my first reviewers! Seriously, everyone, you don't know how happy it made me to log in and see all of that! I might've cried (but ill never admit to that) because I know how hard it is to get things like that. You have made my life!_

 _Sending good thoughts your way,_

 _C_


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